


Living Past

by galaxyprince



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 23:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9210476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxyprince/pseuds/galaxyprince
Summary: Six was just a man who delivered mail across the Mojave. No questions asked, no refunds accepted. He did his job well and stayed out of people's way. But then everything changed when some poor bastard tried to kill him. Now, Six walks the desert throwing out caps at the casinos and looking for some company. He finds it in an unlikely Doctor with an unusual name who has less faith in himself than there is flowers in the Mojave. Six intends to learn everything he can while traveling with Arcade, even if it kills him again in the process.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So it's been a while since I had played FNV and I picked it back up and remembered immediately why Arcade was my favorite. This diverges from canon a bit in terms of actual dialogue and shit in game, but I'm doing my best to keep up with the lore. It's gonna take a while for me to remember everything but I will do what I can. Anyway, enjoy! My little cowboy courier is one hell of a mailman, and these are his adventures set a few months into him waking from the dead.

For a man who just wanted to listen to the blues and deliver packages, Six was not surprised when the world decided to let him eat shit. Luckily, by some miracle he survived long enough to feed the shit right back. Which is how he found himself sitting on a rickety bar stool in the Atomic Wrangler with a half smoked cigar between his lips and an empty glass of Whiskey in front of him. He let out a puff of smoke and turned to catch a glimpse of the woman who was singing in the back of the room. She was slim, wearing what Six assumed to be a dress that was found on the body of a high society corpse over in the Strip. 

Six rubbed a hand over his beard and placed a handful of caps on the bar, James nodding from where he was cleaning a glass as Six tipped his hat and stood from the stool. He adjusted his gloves and slung his rifle and pack back over his shoulder, making his way to the door. He passed several plastered strangers, one reaching out to try and pull him into conversation. He shrugged off the patron and pushed open the doors to Freeside. The night air of the desert was cool, prickling the skin on his exposed forearms. He hated staying at the Atomic Wrangler overnight, having to pay caps to rent a bed when he could just make one under the stars, but finding a suitable spot in a city instead of nature was a bit more difficult. 

He reached back and undid the tie holding his brown hair in a ponytail to shield his neck from the cold. He decided he would walk a few blocks and see if any of the abandoned apartments were open enough to the air that he wouldn’t suffocate in the grime. He passed a man hunched against a wall with bleached blonde hair and a lab coat covering his shoulders. Six stopped, backpeddling and facing the man. He hoisted his hands onto his hips dramatically and squared up to the doctor. “Well now, ain’t it a bit late to be outside the walls, Doc? You know the crazy’s come out at night,” Six huffed a laugh around the cigar between his lips. The doctor didn’t look up. “Hey, you alright there, partner?” Six placed a hand on the man’s shoulders, who took a moment before looking up, his glasses barely hanging on to the end of his nose. His green eyes were strained, eyebrows drawn together and pain stitched across his face. 

“You,” He said, remembering Six from his visit to Old Mormon Fort earlier that morning. He had come in with too many questions and not enough courtesy. 

“Your name is Arcade, right? I met ya earlier. You look like you seen a ghost,” The Courier bent over to be on the same eye level as Arcade, and watched as the doctor’s gaze shifted   
over his shoulder. Six turned, catching a glimpse of a bloody body lain across the street. He turned back to Arcade, noticing that the doctor was holding his side with his left hand. “Shit,” Six placed his fingers gently over Arcade’s, trying to get him to move them so he could get a better look at the wound that was staining both Arcade’s shirt and his coat. 

Arcade didn’t relent his hold on his side, and Six bit his lip. “Look, you’re a doctor, you should know well enough that we gotta get this dealt with,” He met Arcade’s eyes once more, removing his glasses from his face and pocketing them. “I ain’t about to let the prettiest doctor west of the Mississippi die on me here.”

“You really are a relentless flirt, aren’t you?” Arcade laughed, and then scrunched up his nose, the motion obviously causing serious discomfort for the area around the wound.

“Yeah, so you’ve told me,” Six huffed and smiled, rounding an arm around the Doctor’s shoulders. “You can walk, yeah?” He asked, letting Arcade lean his weight into Six’s side. Arcade hesitated before nodding, testing the motion by putting a foot forward. “I will support most of ya, just wanna let you keep your dignity by walkin’ to the gate yourself. It ain’t far,” Six practically lifted all of Arcade’s weight from under his arms, all but dragging him in the direction of the fort. He watched as the expression on Arcade’s face grew tighter, more pained the closer they got. 

“What were ya doin’ out so late? You know this place ain’t safe for anyone without a weapon after dark. Those thugs don’t care who ya are,” Six decided to keep him talking, to keep his mind off of the pain. 

Arcade stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. “Just… looking for the warm embrace of death,” He finally managed. He looked opposite of the direction of Six, keeping his gaze as far from Six’s eyes as possible. The Courier frowned. 

“Don’t talk like that, kid,” He said, readjusting his grip on Arcade with as much effort as he could so not to cause more discomfort. Arcade huffed, his laugh curt and venomous. Six decided to change the subject. “You seemed to be able to handle yourself decently enough though, wasn’t aware a researcher knew his way around a weapon,”

“Hn,” Arcade was fading quickly with all the movement, but Six knew he had to pick up the pace. 

As they approached the gates, one of the Doctors came out to meet them. She reached out for Arcade when they were close enough, and Arcade smiled at her. She was older, her curly white hair pulled tight into a ponytail. A few aids ran to help her carry him the rest of the way. “Thank you,” She said, relieving Six of his hold on Arcade, “We will take care of him from here.”

Six let his hands linger on Arcade’s back for as long as possible before he let them drop to fists at his side. He let them walk a few yards away before taking a deep breath. “Damn it,” Six stomped out the cigar beneath his feet and set off behind them. He couldn’t leave the guy, not like this. He had to at least make sure he was going to be okay. 

The tent they dragged Arcade into was large, probably one of their more staffed rooms, and laid him down on a bed. Six watched from the door flap, keeping his eyes on Arcade’s face. His hands went to the glasses hooked on his pocket, and he rubbed his fingers on the frame. The older Doctor spoke up, her hand wiping wet hair from Arcade’s forehead. “Hang in there Arcade, it’s alright,” She hummed. One of her staff quickly removed Arcade’s coat and shirt, revealing the actual wound. Six couldn’t see from where he was standing, but it was definitely coated in blood, lots of it. He frowned. 

“Rahn, there looks to be at least three entry wounds,” The younger doctor looked up to the older woman, who frowned. She let her eyes hang on the young man for a moment before turning back to Arcade. 

“We are gonna have to fish these rounds out,” She said, sternly, watching as Arcade took a deep breath and looked around the tent, clearly disoriented. “Hang with me, Arcade, you’re gonna be fine, hon,” She motioned for the staff to bring her supplies to get to work. 

Arcade’s eyes landed on the Courier, looking for something to ground him. Six kept his gaze, wondering if Arcade could even see who he was without his glasses on. 

The doctor lifted a pair of angled tweezers from the tray she was given, and placed a hand above the wound. Arcade tensed, willing himself to keep his eyes on Six. Six felt his stomach drop, knowing full well the pain of removing bullet scrap. He’s head to dig bullets out of his own skin before, a lot of the time passing out before getting them all. He hoped to any God still left that the ones in Arcade were close enough to the surface that it would be quick. 

The guy had no self worth, fancied himself less interesting than a Junkie, made no sense when talking about medical jumbo, and risked his life going out after dark in a bad part of town. He was arrogant, self depreciating, and absolutely intriguing in every way. When Arcade screamed as the tweezers were inserted almost to the hilt in his side, Six let his legs carry him to where he was out of the way but still able to be there. The older doctor gave him a scrutinizing look, her eyes explicitly delivering the message that he was not supposed to be in the tent, let alone this close to where they were working. Six met her eyes and showed he acknowledged her threat, but took Arcade’s hand anyway. The older doctor didn’t seem to have the gall to argue, and went back to her work. Arcade tightened his fingers on the back of Six’s hand as the tweezers fished around in the first wound. 

Six kept his eyes on Arcade’s face as he succumbed to unconsciousness, keeping hold on his hand for the rest of the operation. “I still got you,” He said quietly.

~

When Arcade woke, Six was leaned back in a chair beside the bed, Arcade’s glasses held protectively between both of his palms. His pack and rifle were leaned against the chair, and his hat rested on his knee. Arcade shifted and tried to lift himself up in bed, feeling the soreness of his stitches pull against his skin. He winced, looking down to assess the damage. 

“Hey there, Cowboy.”

Six shifted, yawning and lifting his head back up. His eyes met Arcade’s and he grinned. “Well, look who decided to return to the world of the living,” 

“Looks like my plan has failed then,” Arcade huffed half heartedly.

“Do you ever stop putting yourself down?” Six asked, leaning forward.

“Where would the fun be in that?” He laughed, the sound rough and unsure. “So why are you still here? You have no obligation to me, you could have just let me die out there,” Arcade rubbed his thumb over the pads of his fingers, remembering the feeling of having the Courier’s callused hands around his own.

“I meant it when I said I could use a good lookin’ doctor watchin’ my back out there. Only figured I would return the favor of watchin’ yours in return. I would be ridding the world of such a beautiful man, lettin’ you die there,” Six laid the glasses on Arcade’s lap. 

“I insist you stop complimenting me, I’m not worth the pedestal you seem to have put me on. I’m just an average boring guy from somewhere far away looking to make a difference here,” Arcade looked down at his stitches again, the skin still sore from all the misuse. 

Six stood from his chair, knocking it to the ground forcefully. Arcade snapped his head up, startled by the sudden aggression. Six looked upset, more upset than Arcade thought was possible for the man. His fists curled at his sides. “Why do you do that?” He asked, his voice laced with venom.

“What--?” Arcade started, Six cutting him off halfway through the question. 

“Stop trying to get me to look down on you, Arcade, you are worth something. Everyone is. Everyone takes this life for granted an’ I thought you would realize that after what happened t’you last night,” Six softened, sitting down on the side of the bed. Arcade stared, wide eyed and at a loss for words. Finally, he spoke.

“Do you know what it’s like… to lose everything? To have the world you thought you knew turn on you and kick you out?” Arcade asked, and to his surprise, the Courier answered. 

“I do, Arcade,” He said. “And that same world that gave ya the boot is letting you have a second chance. You’re the most intriguing person I have ever met, and I mean it. You got somethin’ a lotta good men would die for.”

Arcade looked up at him, unbelieving of anything being said to him. “You hardly know me if you think I am anything worth protecting,” He laughed.

Six reached in and ran his hand through the hair on the side of Arcade’s head, letting his palm rest against the Doctor’s cheek. “You gettin’ back up and trying to take this second chance is worth protecting. You ain’t gonna pack it up easily, no matter how much you tell yourself you don’t deserve it,” Six sighed warmly. “I ain’t claiming to know what you did in your past or how the world royally fucked you, but you’re a strong man for tryin’ to make a difference with this new life you’ve been given.”

Arcade’s cheeks flushed red, and he opened his mouth looking for the words that weren’t there. Six drew back his hand and stood. “Look, take it from a man who actually died and came back to life. You gotta make everything count in this world, partner,” Six rubbed his neck.

“Wait,” Arcade said, finally pushing his voice through his lips. “What do you mean, someone who actually died?” 

“If you want the whole story, you gotta get yourself together and come with me. Might change your view on the world if you travel to everywhere you can in this life, see every kind of person there is to see,” Six slung his pack over his shoulder and lifted his rifle into his hand. He smiled at Arcade. “So, are you comin’ or what? I’m not gonna invite you a third time.”

“I guess if we are talking second chances, I accept,” Arcade smiled back.

“That’s what I like to hear. It only took a whole day of flirtin’ to get you to stop feelin’ sorry for yourself,” Six turned towards the flap in the tent and took a step before looking back at Arcade, who had slung his legs over the side of the bed. “And, if you ever feel like you can’t talk yourself back up from whatever place you go to, I will take on the task. You ain’t alone anymore, Arcade Gannon.”

“Thank you,” Arcade paused, realizing he didn’t know the Courier’s name.

“Babel Pratch,” Six offered, “But everyone just calls me Six.”

“Thank you, Six,” Arcade stood, slipping into his lab coat. Six lead the way out of the tent, and Arcade followed, sliding the glasses back over his nose.


End file.
